


slow down, you move too fast

by AngWrites



Series: James Potter Finds Out [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Marauders' Era, Socks, graphic depictions of sleeping with socks on, this is the first and only short thing I will ever write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 10:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13456353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngWrites/pseuds/AngWrites
Summary: James finds out. Everyone's half-asleep and Sirius's socks don't match. It works out.





	slow down, you move too fast

**Author's Note:**

> _Slow down, you move too fast_   
>  _You got to make the morning last._
> 
> \--Simon & Garfunkel, "The 59th Street Bridge Song"

They woke James up eventually, but it wasn’t how you’d think.

It was 3:00 in the morning on a Friday night—or Saturday morning, whichever you preferred—and a remarkable one because they’d all been in bed for several hours. If asked, James would’ve blamed Peter for being “too bloody tired or some shite” or Sirius for “getting boring in his old age” (seventh year and reaching not only seventeen, but eighteen whole years, of course made all of them Extremely Old And Wise) but the truth of it was that the full moon had been recent. Remus was doing better, but full moons in the middle of the school week weren’t ideal for any of them, least of all Remus—for obvious reasons, though if you’d asked him, he’d have complained more about missing class than about the bruises and other various injuries.

But then, he’d always been a bit mental, in James’ opinion. The werewolf thing had nothing to do with it.

So by unspoken agreement there was no prank that night, and Remus had gone up to bed early. Sirius had followed not long after, on the pretense of looking for something he left up there, but really to check up on him—or so James had thought.

He and Pete had given it a couple hours yet, playing Exploding Snap by the fire while he tried not to stare at Lily Evans and almost succeeded. She hadn’t hexed him, anyway. Hadn’t hexed him at all this year, in fact. There was a time when James would have gloated about that all over the dormitory (and the Common Room, and the Great Hall, and the Quidditch pitch, and the classrooms—everywhere, in fact, until Lily hexed him) but it didn’t seem worth the trouble, not anymore. Let her think what she wanted, James had decided. It didn’t change the way he felt, but he could at least pretend to be a functional human being and not a deranged stalker.

Anyway, no one had gotten hexed and Peter’s eyebrows would probably grow back eventually, and finally they’d given in and gone to bed, too.

And there James was, at arse o’clock am, woken up by rustling and low murmuring from Sirius’ bed.

He was only half-awake but he could hear some of it, and at first he didn’t understand what it meant.

“Quit complaining and just do it, you twat.” That was Remus, his voice hoarse from sleep but determined.

Sirius made a face. James couldn’t see the face, but he knew Sirius made one, and probably which face it was. “It feels weird,” he said, but there was rustling around the bed that suggested he was doing whatever Remus wanted.

“Your feet are like ice,” Remus insisted. “That’s weirder. I’ve been awake for the last hour and it’s your fault.”

“What, you don’t like it when I warm them against your flushed, hot, skin?”

“Sirius!” The warning note in Remus’s voice made even James, in his half-asleep state, want to behave and stop doing whatever he’d done wrong. Sirius didn’t stand a chance.

“Fine, fine,” Sirius said. More rustling. “Er—Moony? Are these yours?”

 There was a silence, with a yawn in it. “No,” said Remus sleepily. “Yours. I was wearing them.”

 Another silence, and a sharp intake of breath. “ _Fuck._ Remus—”

 “In the morning,” Remus said, and he definitely sounded drowsy now. “Seriously, Sirius, put on the damn socks.”

 “Found them,” said Sirius, a bit breathlessly. “You sure? This will look ridiculous.”

James knew Sirius’ facial expressions the best, but he could also tell when Remus was smiling faintly. “You always look a bit ridiculous, Pads.”

“Take that _back_ ,” Sirius said, but he had flopped down on the bed. “And you are going to pay for that—” there was a word James couldn’t make out “—thing.”

“All right,” Remus said, yawning again. “No—Sirius! You’ll wake up James and Pete! In the morning—you’re insatiable, you know that?”

“Fine,” Sirius said. There should’ve been a pout in it, but James was sure he was smiling, and that Sirius and Remus were both drifting off to sleep.

James was also dimly sure this meant something, something he should probably know, but he was already half-asleep too, and now that it was quiet, he was drifting off for good. Morning rolled around before he had time to work out what it was.  
  


Saturday mornings at Hogwarts usually meant Quidditch practice for James, but he had a reprieve today, and he intended to not waste it. He was used to waking up at early hours, so his body jumped awake well before he was ready, but he didn’t bother fighting it; his brain was full of plans for the day. He just hopped out of bed, got dressed, and immediately went about rousing the others to join him for a day of long-overdue marauding.

He started with Sirius, because once Sirius was awake, everyone was awake.

“Padfoot!” James cried, as loudly and as obnoxiously as he could, “Get up! I’ve got some ideas for the Map and I want to—uh.” He had flung open the bed-curtains, and immediately regretted it.

It wasn’t that he’d never seen Sirius sleep naked before. Actually, you could call it a regular occurrence. It wasn’t even the fact that he was sprawled everywhere, limbs dangling at odd angles.

It was really more that he seemed to be draped over someone else, also naked (he thought—he couldn’t see much, thank god), and by the looks of the hair sticking out of the nest of blankets (and the conversation he vaguely remembered from last night), it seemed to be Remus.

Also, there were the socks.

One was yellow and green polka dots on a pink background and the other was lurid orange and purple tartan, and James had _never_ seen Sirius wearing socks in bed before, no matter how cold it got. Even when he was forced to put on clothes—never socks.

“Uh,” James said again.

He couldn’t stop staring at the socks.

“Is that Prongs?” said the mound of blankets that was definitely Moony. “Make him go away.”

Sirius rolled over a bit and squinted up at him. “Yeah, it is. Thought you had Quidditch practice.”

“Not today,” James managed. There was a diatribe in the back of his head about how Sirius would know that perfectly well if he hadn’t been kicked off the team last year, but he couldn’t get it out. “Uh—are you—are those _socks_?”

He probably deserved the odd look Sirius gave him. “Yes…”

“You never sleep in socks.”

“You try sleeping next to Mount Everest,” said the Moony-mound. “I thought I was going to freeze to death. Padfoot, why isn’t he gone?”

“He seems to be fixating on socks to deal with his shock,” said Sirius. He was a little more awake now, but clearly not ready to hop out of bed yet, to James’ vague disappointment. And Remus was definitely not fully awake, or there would have been much more panicking. James felt more wrong-footed than he ever had in his life. Shouldn’t someone be freaking out right now? Somebody not him?

“You put on socks because Moony was cold,” said James.

“Er—yes?”

James blinked. He couldn’t stop thinking about the tartan. Was that the pattern of a specific clan? Did _anyone_ use those colors? Where did Sirius even find that? Why pink and yellow polka dots? What was happening? Would Sirius even know the answers to these questions? Assuming he could stop gaping like a fish long enough to ask? “And you say _I’m_ whipped,” James said weakly.

Sirius’ eyes narrowed. “So that time—oh wait, _all those times_ —you let Lily Evans schedule a Prefect’s meeting over Quidditch practice, or put you on patrol on a Saturday night, or made you babysit first years—”

“All right,” said James, wondering dimly why he was the one on the defensive. “Well, uh. Sorry to have. Interrupted? Carry on, then.” He closed the curtains at last, and heard Remus breathe out a relieved sigh of _finally_.

He was halfway through hounding Pete out of bed when he remembered, strode back over, and flung the curtains over again. “Don’t be late for breakfast!” he said, to their annoyed faces. “I’ve got an idea for the Map and I want to work on it before we plan out the prank on the Slytherin dorms, and—”

“All right,” said Sirius irritably. “Close the curtains before Moony bites your head off. Before I bite your head off.”

“Good,” said James. He nodded at them both, not entirely sure why. But it seemed important. “Good.” Then he shut the curtains again, and stalked away, gathering up a still-groggy Peter in his wake, to go down to the Great Hall.

Remus rolled over as soon as they were gone, to eye Sirius blearily. “Did he just give us his blessing?”

Sirius yawned. “Think so,” he said. “You know, you stole all my blankets.”

“Was cold.” Remus released his hold on them, a little. “You seemed to do fine.”

Sirius pulled himself back under the blankets and took the opportunity to readjust so that Moony was draped over him now. That was nice, because Remus made a pleased sound at the warmth and burrowed in closer and didn’t start making worried noises about what had just happened. “And he said something about the Map.”

“Yes,” Sirius said, trying to wrangle his brain cells, because Remus’ breath puffing on the crook of his neck was very distracting. “Another idea for it.”

Remus snorted. “It’s _done_ ,” he said. Sirius bit his lip, trying desperately to focus. “When is he going to stop working on it?”

“Oh, you know he is, that Potter,” Sirius managed. “Stubborn bastard. Like a dog with a bone—can’t let it go.”

Remus raised his head at that, and Sirius took a second to mourn the loss before he noticed the slow, considering look Moony was giving him now. “You’re one to talk,” he said finally, voice low.

Sirius made a strangled sound and was about to pull him down, but Remus got there first, smirking faintly as he kissed him, slow and deep. Sirius relaxed into it, pulling him closer, and _yes_ —they were both definitely awake now.

When Remus pulled away, he smirked back. “Didn’t we promise we’d be down for breakfast?” Sirius said, though they both knew there was no earthly chance of either of them getting up now.

“You said that,” said Remus. “But I also seem to remember you saying I owe you.”

He pretended to think for a moment, just long to get Remus to roll his eyes, before he grinned wickedly. “Oh, right,” he said, and Remus was laughing as Sirius rolled him over and pounced.  
  


(“You going to take the socks off?” Remus said, between breathless kisses.

Sirius hummed against his skin, smiling when he gasped. “Why would I, when you like me in them so much?”

“Well—” Remus began, but it trailed off in a moan as Sirius decided he’d had enough talking. Whatever he’d wanted to say was lost.)

They were incredibly late for breakfast. Almost missed it, in fact.  
  


Sirius wore the socks all day, secretly enjoying the way James’ ears turned red every time he saw them.

**Author's Note:**

> Have not written or posted fanfiction for literal years, and yet I've written 4.5 of these and they each get progressively longer and I'm not sorry for anything.


End file.
